Black Angels, Red Angels, White Angels
by Aino Krum
Summary: Chapter 2 is finally here! Please R/R. Summary: The new rise of Death Eaters, set 3 years after Ron and Hermione's graduation.
1. A Day of Thoughts

This takes place on year 2000, three years after Ron and Hermione graduated from Hogwarts. This is kind of sequel to my series "Harry's and Cho's Christmas," but you don't have to read it to read this, just note that Harry died in his fifth year, taking Voldemort with him. 

Rating: I'm not really sure about what it should be, so it's R to be on the safe side. And this is aimed for mature readers, it deals with topics like insanity, sex, betrayal, angst… 

Disclaimers: The plot belongs to me, I'm sorry if I've copied someone, the characters belong to JKR and so on…

Black Angels, Red Angels, White Angels

Part 1

A Day of Thoughts

Ginny woke with a start. She felt really bad, but didn't know the reason to that. She lay back and watched the white wall. She tried to remember…

The dream came slowly back to her.

_She was in a plane. She sat comfortably in her chair, when she heard a familiar voice talk._

_"Ginny, this plane is gonna crash. You must warn the pilot. Otherwise all of the people here are going to die."_

_Ginny didn't hesitate for a moment. She stood up and walked into the cabinet. The pilot and another man sat comfortably in their chairs; the autopilot was taking care of everything._

_"We're going to crash," she heard herself say to the pilot. "You must immediately take off the autopilot. It's broken."_

_The pilot looked at her. "What?"_

_Ginny repeated patiently what she had said. "Please hurry," she added, "or we're all going to die."_

_The pilot laughed. "Nonsense. Why would such thing happen?"_

_"Harry told me."_

_"Harry Potter is dead," the pilot answered. "You're mad."_

_"Please do take off the autopilot," Ginny repeated again. Her voice sounded calm, though she felt terrified. "I know what I'm talking about."_

_"So do I," snapped the pilot. "Please escort young miss Weasley out of here," he said to the man beside him. The man stood up._

_"Come on Ginny," he said gently. He was wearing a white uniform - St. Mungo's uniform. "Let's go somewhere where you can rest."_

_Ginny didn't answer. She just looked out through the window. A white wing of an aeroplane split the darkness outside vertically._

_"Shit!" she heard the pilot say._

_Now Ginny felt very calm. She looked at the wing, where it was, circling slowly around._

_"I wonder how I'm going to die," Ginny asked herself out loud. "I hope the thin air kills me of immediately. Or maybe just a mortal trauma will do. I just don't want to suffer."_

_The wing circled around ever so slowly. Then suddenly Ginny couldn't see anything but darkness. Her whole body felt funny, like someone was tying it out. The funny feeling changed into pain. The pain increased, Ginny thought to herself that she couldn't take anymore. It still increased._

_And suddenly there was nothing. Just her mind in a light-less space._

_Ginny knew that she was dead._

_ _

A light knocking on the door woke Ginny from her thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened, and in came a young woman in a white uniform. Padma Patil smiled.

"So how are we doing today?" she asked.

"Just like every other day," answered Ginny dully. If anything, Padma's nurse-attitude could ruin a day completely. And this one hadn't even started well!

"Anything you'd like to talk about?" Padma asked. "Did you sleep well?"

"I had a nightmare. It made me realise something."

"What? And what was it about?"

"Me dying. I realised I'd rather die than spend the rest of my life here. I need to get out, Padma. I can't breathe inside these walls!"

"Ginny…" Padma started, but Ginny interrupted her.

"I know why I'm here. I've heard all of your arguments. It doesn't change anything. I still need to get out. I need to walk outside without an army of nurses watching over me. I promise I won't do anything to myself. I can't promise that if I have to stay here. Please, Padma!"

"Threating with suicide doesn't help at all, Ginny," Padma answered. But I can try talking to the doctor. A few days vacation could be good. A few days with your family."

"I don't want to spend my entire life here, Padma."

"Let's just start with a short vacation. If it goes well, we could consider letting you visit home first every other week-end, then every wee-end."

Ginny sighed. "It will take time, won't it?"

Padma nodded. "But you're already much better. That's the only reason I even consider letting you out for a few days. You'll just have to co-operate."

Ginny sat quiet for a moment. "A whole year," she then said slowly. "I've spent a whole year of my life inside these walls. I'm only 19, and I've spent a whole year of my life in a mental hospital."

Padma sat quiet, listening. She sensed that Ginny was now on the edge of talking. Until then she had only received magical and medical treatment. Now she was finally going to open up and talk.

Ginny sat again quiet for a while. Then she looked at Padma. "You've got no idea of what it feels like. You can go home when you're work is over. You can relax sitting by a fire or by flying. I'll just have to sit here day in and day out."

Padma didn't say anything. Ginny smiled suddenly like someone had given her a compliment.

"Harry says I should tell you," Ginny said. Padma jumped at the sound of Harry name.

"Ginny," she said carefully, "you know Harry is dead, don't you?"

Ginny was quiet. She had a look of knowing something that no one else did.

"I know he is dead," she finally answered. She pronounced the word "dead" so softly and beautifully that Padma got the mental image of the living Harry.

"You know Harry talks to me?" Ginny said. It wasn't really a question, and she didn't expect an answer. "That's why I'm here. At least part of the reason. The other parts I don't know."

Ginny sat again quiet, thinking, for a moment. Then she started again. "Harry has been talking to me since the day he died. He has been comforting me, saying that he is only behind a thin curtain. That he can see me although I can't see him.2 Ginny looked at Padma. "You don't believe ma, do you?" Again she didn't expect an answer.

"I loved Harry," Ginny said. "I was only fourteen when he died, but I truly loved him. I still do, but now as a dear friend."

Padma didn't say anything. She only waited for the younger woman to continue with her story.

"Harry says the souls of dead people are behind that curtain, but not all of them have powers or reason to talk to us. And not all of the people will listen. Some just refuse to hear what the souls are trying to say to them. They just sense the feelings the spirits are trying to pass to them. But they don't hear the talk."

Padma waited.

Suddenly Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to be here," she said miserably. "I'm not mad! Or at least not that mad. Why am I kept here?" she demanded.

"Ginny…"

"Don't just say 'Ginny'!" Ginny looked at Padma. "There are people outside who are much more disturbed than I am. Why have I been locked in here?"

Padma didn't answer. She thought about her sister, Parvati. Parvati, who was probably much worse off than Ginny."

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I wasn't here then. And besides, that's classified information. I don't have access to it."

Ginny sighed. "Of course not. But I'd like to know. I want to know!" She sighed again. "Well, there's nothing to do about it." She leaned back and closed her eyes. Slowly she started talking again.

"Harry is the only friend I've got left. Hermione travels all over the world, so she can only come and visit me when she's in England. My family comes sometimes, mom and dad come, but I can't bear looking at them. I always feel that I have let them down by getting here. Fred and George are busy with their joke shop. Ron and Bill and Charlie are abroad, Ron and Bill with Gringotts' business to keep them busy, Charlie fighting with dragons. And then there is Percy - he has never come to see me." Ginny looked straight at Padma. "Harry is the only one I've got left. I fell like I've let everyone else down. Especially my family."

"You shouldn't think so, Ginny. You haven't let anyone down. These things just happen."

"But it feels like I have. I never thought I'd end here, locked in a mental hospital. 'St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries'. People who come here are mad, raving lunatics. What am I doing here? And how on earth can I explain it to my family?"

Padma considered her answer very carefully. Somehow it felt right to tell Ginny about her own thoughts, her problems, and Parvati. But if she did that, she would break against two important rules. 

One: don't mix your personal life to your work. Especially not in a job like this. 

Two: Don't tell patients about your own doubts.

"Well, if you think that way, I maybe shouldn't tell you whom I got an owl from today," Padma said, turning the whole issue to a joke. "Bill is in England, and he sent an owl here, asking if he was allowed a visit." Padma grew serious again. "I already owled him back, and said that he could. He should be here any minute. Do you want to see him?"

Ginny didn't hesitate for a moment. "Of course I do!"

"I'll go outside to let you change clothes and brush your hair," said Padma.

***

Bill was already waiting outside when Padma came out from Ginny's room. Padma felt her heart skip a beat; she had totally forgotten how handsome he was.

"How is she?" he asked with his low voice.

"She is fine," Padma said soothingly. "Just wait a moment before you go in, she's changing clothes now."

Bill sat down in a chair. "When does she get out of here?" he asked. "This is not a suitable place for her. She shouldn't be here at all."

"We talked about it this morning," answered Padma. "She'd like to get out as well." She leaned towards Bill and lowered her voice. "She still claims that Harry Potter is talking to her," she continued, "and in some way, I'm almost bound to believe her. She's very convincing. At least, in any case, she believes he's talking to her."

"I've never doubted that," said Bill angrily. "Stranger things have happened. I believe her, and I can't see why she has to stay here!" he exclaimed loudly.

Padma looked around. "Calm down," she hissed. "Here's other patients, too. And could you please let me finish?"

Bill looked a bit ashamed when she continued. "I believe her, and I agree with you and her, there's no reason to keep her here. Absolutely no reason. But I'm not the judge of that. I don't know why she came here, hearing voices isn't a good enough reason, when we have hundreds of people queuing for treatment that they actually do need. Ginny isn't to any danger to herself nor to others, so I really can't understand why she was put here in the first place. Do you know?"

"I've heard rumours," Bill answered shortly. "Members of my family have been accused, as you probably know."

Padma nodded, she had seen the articles in The Daily Prophet. Molly and Arthur Weasley had been accused when special reporter Rita Skeeter had somehow managed to lay her hands on Ginny's story. Fortunately, everyone had refused to give statements to her, and the whole story had been soothed over. Several people were fired from St. Mungo's, though, and when it had been obvious that neither Molly nor Arthur Weasley had been guilty to whatever the Skeeter beetle, as she was nowadays called, had accused them to have done, Rita Skeeter had finally been fired from The Daily Prophet.

"What you probably don't know," continued Bill, "is that me and Ron made some investigations on our own. This information goes no further from here, I trust you with this. No one else is to know about it, especially no reporters, but maybe you can help us. You maybe have access to files that Ron and me aren't allowed to see. We think that here's something more under this that what we yet have found proof for." Padma nodded.

Bill drew a deep breath. "Everything stops at the Ministry of Magic. Whoever we ask, wherever we look, everything is classified as secret by the Ministry - and the chief of the department of Politics."

Padma swallowed uneasily. "You mean…"

"Everything is classified as secret by Percy Weasley."

***

Ginny smiled happily when Bill came in. "Hi," she said.

Bill stepped forwards and embraced her. "How is my favourite sister doing?" he asked gently.

Ginny tried to say "I'm fine", but the words wouldn't come. Something inside her burst, when she felt Bill hug her with such warmth. For the first time in months she felt that someone cared about her, and a dam inside her broke, letting her tightly controlled feelings loose. Suddenly she was telling Bill everything, her doubts, her fears, the sudden urge to escape life. Somewhere the story turned into desperate sobs, where sometimes the words "I can't go on anymore!" were distinguable. 

Bill didn't say anything; she didn't even give him a chance to. Somehow he felt happy for that, because he had no idea of what he should have said. He just held her close and patted her head.

When Ginny had calmed down a bit, she felt ashamed of herself. She tried to apologise, but Bill wouldn't let her.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he told her soothingly. "I'm glad you told me all this."

"I'm so sorry," repeated Ginny for the fifth time. "I feel like I've let everyone down. All my friends, and you, and the rest of the family. Everyone else has succeeded, but I can't do anything but hear voices and complain."

"Do you believe you hear Harry?" Bill asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes," Ginny repeated without doubt. "But no one else hears him, no one believes. I'm soon starting to feel that I am mad."

"You're not mad, Ginny," Bill said sternly. "Remember it. There's lot's of things we can't explain."

Ginny was quiet for a moment. She had a faraway look, like she wasn't paying attention at all.

"Could I ask you something, Ginny?" Bill asked seriously.

"Sure." She tried to smile, but the concern in his eyes made it impossible.

"You didn't really mean you'd want to die, right?" Bill asked with a concerned look.

Ginny would have denied it rather than anything, but she couldn't. She didn't look him in the eyes.

"Please, Ginny…"

She closed her eyes. "I don't know," she said slowly. "Sometimes it feels like this life ain't worth living. But I don't think I'd really want to die. Not really. It's just… Imagining life inside these walls…" She couldn't continue.

He reached out and stroke her hand carefully.

Ginny couldn't look at him. She knew exactly what he looked like. He had had the same look the first time she met him after the episode with Tom Riddle years ago, and when he came to the room where she and Ron and the twins were after Harry had died, and when she first told him she heard Harry's voice. It was a look of comfort mixed with concern, of love mixed with fear. She couldn't bear it.

"This isn't the right place for you," he exclaimed, breaking the silence. "We need to get you out of here, before you really go mad!"

"You don't really think I'm mad?" Ginny asked, relieved.

"Not yet." Bill patted her on the cheek, threw a glance at his clock, and gave her a look that was meant to be a cheerful smile mixed with apologisation. "I have to go now," he said, "but I'll talk with your doctor. I'm sure they'll let you out, Padma said you could get some vacation." He stood up and walked to the door.

"Take care of yourself," Ginny said after him. He turned around.

"You too. Don't let them break you. And say 'hi' to Harry."

***

Padma opened the door to her small apartment. "Parvati, I'm home!" she shouted.

Parvati was sitting in the couch. She merely looked up.

Padma sighed. She knew that in Hogwarts people had had trouble knowing who was who. Now no one had. For the first, Parvati never went out. No one ever saw her. And, because she never went out, her skin was as pale as porcelain. Padma wasn't very tanned either, but compared to her, Parvati looked like a ghost.

Padma let her hair out. Her long, black, shiny hair was always carefully braided at work. She couldn't help comparing her hair to Parvati's. Parvati's was thin, lifeless, and greasy.

The biggest difference, though, was their faces. Padma's was gaunt and thin, like she was starving.

It had taken so long for Padma to realise what her twin suffered of. Too long. Padma could never forgive herself for not seeing the symptoms in time. She was a nurse, and still she hadn't seen it. Even trained by both the Muggles' nursing schools and the wizarding ones, she had failed to see what was up with her twin.

Depression.

Anorexia.

Longing for death.

It had started - Padma had trouble remembering when it had started. Sixth grade in Hogwarts, perhaps? Some time after the death of Harry Potter.

Parvati had first been irritated on everyone and everything. Then she had somehow pulled herself back; no longer was she the centre of all attention. It had taken 'til the spring of the seventh year for Padma to see the change. And Parvati had refused to talk about it, so Padma had left her alone, as she requested.

How stupid can you be?

Padma could never stop blaming herself for doing as Parvati asked her. She should have seen, should have understood! But she was in love with Amos Lindgren, a handsome Swedish boy with a singing accent. Amos was an exchange student, whom she was still, after three years, corresponding with.

After graduation from Hogwarts things had really started to go downhill for Parvati. Even though she had studied hard for the N.E.W.T.s, she hadn't got top grades. Or not at least by her measures. Padma would have been more than happy if she had got Parvati's grades, but somehow Parvati had turned into a perfectionist, she had started to compete with Hermione Granger. She had lost, of course. Even though Parvati had spent all her time in the library, she still couldn't catch Hermione. Even though Padma never even dreamt of saying this to Parvati, she secretly thought that Hermione didn't won because she would have seen it like a competition, like Parvati, but because she had something that Parvati missed; the natural love for studies and books. Hermione had a passion towards books that Parvati never shared; Parvati only competed. She wanted to be the best. Padma doubted that Hermione had ever even noticed the competition. To her the longing for knowledge was natural, but the only thing that had ever been natural to Parvati was to be pretty and popular. Somehow she lost it, and herself, when Harry Potter died.

Padma sighed again. Parvati hadn't got to the Wizarding Intelligence Service, WISe, After that, she had tried to get job from the Ministry of Magic, but the attempt had been half-hearted, and doomed to lose. And Parvati had collapsed.

Nothing got better of that Hermione Granger was hired to WISe directly from Hogwarts. The information was of course secret, but Hermione had - very unwisely - told Parvati about her nomination. Parvati had congratulated her through gritted teeth, turned on her heels, and turned her back to all of her friends from Hogwarts. And, because Parvati was a full-blood wizard, she didn't actually have any other friends. Their parents had died in an accident three years ago. The only one Parvati had left was now Padma.

Now Padma brought in money from her work at St. Mungo's, while Parvati sat at home, grieving for that one N.E.W.T., which would have guaranteed her entrance to WISe.

Padma wasn't exactly happy with taking care of Parvati, but that was more for Parvati's sake, not for her own, and certainly not because she didn't love her twin. More than anything she would have wanted to see that her twin would put her life together and start living again.

There was another reason, too. Padma felt that something was missing from her life. She longed for someone to love. She longed for to be loved. Padma hadn't let herself fall in love since Hogwarts. She had told herself that she was happy the way everything was, that she didn't need anything more, and that Parvati needed her. Then she had felt that it was her fault that Parvati wasn't well, and that she should take care of her. But now things had changed. Though she still felt guilty, she had also started to realise that Parvati needed the will to get better. Especially today, with the memory of the conversation with Ginny still fresh in her mind, she felt that Parvati should try, too.

Some other feelings had changed state of priority in Padma's mind, too, somewhere during the three years that had passed since Hogwarts. She had grown up. She was an adult now, with an adults feelings. She longed for love.

But she couldn't give herself permission to fall in love, not when she had Parvati to take care of. She couldn't let Parvati down again.

Padma was pulled between these two feelings. She told herself not to fall in love, at the same time she longed for it. She also knew that the instant she would let her mental barriers down, she would be drowned in feelings she had denied for years.

If only she had the possibility.

If only she had the courage.

***

Ron was flying north as fast as he could. He had already sent Pigwidgeon to Hermione, but was still fearing for the worst. The knowledge of the dark side hating him and Hermione wasn't really any news, but they still hadn't felt that they were in an immediate danger. His experiences had now assured him otherwise.

"Thank God our covers aren't gone yet," Ron thought to himself. "They still believe us to be only an employee at Gringotts and the wife of one of the most famous Quidditch-players of all time."

Thinking of Quidditch caused the familiar sting of guilt. Ron had not got over the death of Harry Potter, and he thought he never would. The pain had numbed some after the first summer without Harry, but after that, no change. Ron knew very well that he should have gotten over it. Not by forgetting Harry, absolutely not. That he would never be able to do, even if he wanted to. But Ron couldn't anymore even hear the words "Hedwig", "Firebolt", not to speak of "Harry", without bursting in tears.

There was another thing with the most famous Quidditch-player, too. Or rather his wife. Or rather the fact that she was **his wife. Or maybe rather that the wife was his wife, not Ron's.**

Ron sighed. For five years he had longed for Hermione, and for five years, no response. The nearest he had ever even come to hold her, were the quick friendly hugs.

"Hermione Granger Krum," he said out loud to himself. "Hermione Granger Weasley. Hermione Weasley."

He realised that he was probably being stupid, but couldn't help muttering to himself: "Hermione Weasley sounds so perfect. Pure simplicity, nothing extra. Hermione Weasley."

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"I know she's married," he continued. "I know I can't go between them. I can't. I mustn't."

"But Hermione Granger Krum sounds wrong." he added after another pause. "'Krum' is a… it just sounds wrong. It's too hard for her. Someone like her should have a soft, musical name. Hermione Weasley…" Again he was lost in his thoughts.

Suddenly he slapped his forehead with his fist. The lack of attention and the sudden movement caused the broom to jump unpleasantly, and he swore. "Stop it!" he told himself firmly. "She's married, she's happy. Stop dreaming about her!"

He flew forwards silent, but his thoughts couldn't be quieted as easily as his voice. The wind blew in his eyes, causing tears.

Somehow it felt like a relief to have an excuse to cry.

***

Cho Chang closed the door to her apartment after her. Slowly she walked to the kitchenette and opened the small refrigerator.

"Oh fuck!" she exclaimed, when it's door slowly creaked open, like being almost sorry to reveal it's emptiness.

Cho looked at her watch. The shops had closed almost an hour ago. She pursed her lips together.

"Well, looks like it's going to be juice and bread again," she sighed, opening the cupboard. The empty breadbox stared back.

Cho counted slowly to ten. "Bloody hell!" she screamed, throwing the door to the cupboard shut. How could she have forgotten to buy anything?

Furiously she opened the cupboards. Nothing, except for some Marie-biscuits and orange-juice in a vacuum pack.

Cho thought about cooking food in the "normal" way, magically, but rejected the thought immediately after remembering her last attempt - the fish and chips had looked delicious, but the taste… It had been exactly horrible; something that doesn't taste anything doesn't taste horrible either. Even her cat had refused to eat it.

Swearing over Finland's twisted policy over the opening hours for shops, Cho slammed the freeze-box open, and took out the pack of ice cream she had saved for visitors. Defiantly she slammed the door shut again.

At the same time she heard someone knocking on the window. A small owl was outside, looking accusingly at her because she hadn't already opened the window for her.

Quickly Cho let the bird in. It offered its leg, where a letter was bound, to Cho.

"Padma," Cho exclaimed happily, smiling at the bird. The bird clicked its beak.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've got anything to you," Cho said reluctantly. The owl looked really pissed-off, Cho was sure that if it could talk, it would have told her some well chosen words about flying in cold weather over the seas and countries between Great Britain and Finland.

"Hang on a moment!" Cho added quickly. "I'm sure I've bought something for birds…" She opened a cupboard, and did find a bag of birdseeds.

"Best before 2/99," she read. The seeds looked perfectly good, though. She opened the bag and offered the owl. "I'm sorry, but this is all I've got."

The bird gave her a long, suspicious look, but started to eat. Cho took the ice cream, her slippers, and Padma's letter, and sat down comfortably in an armchair. Slowly she opened the letter, enjoying every moment. She had been looking forward to this for a week.

"Dear Cho"[read it]

"How are things going there? Up here everything's fine, my job at St. Mungo's isn't maybe the most up-cheering one, but I get paid, and that's what matters.

Parvati isn't feeling too well, though."

Here Cho stopped reading, pursing her lips together in pure irritation. Over and over again she had told Padma to stop feeling guilt for Parvati's condition. Padma never listened, though. Cho continued reading.

"She's stopped eating again. I really don't know what to do. Sometimes I just feel that I should slap her and tell her to grow up."

"Do it!" Cho urged mentally.

"But I feel so sorry for her. I mean, it's not her fault."

"Whose, then?"

"She has been through so much. You know she took the death of Harry really hard, and then our parents died… I can't leave her alone here, as much as I'd like to come and visit you."

Cho sighed. Somehow she felt sorry for Parvati, but she also realised something that Padma apparently was blind to. Parvati needed the will to get better, and she wouldn't get that from her sister. She needed to find it herself. "Somehow Padma, who is a much more sensible person than I am, refuses to see it. But of course, it's her sister we're talking about, not mine."

Cho continued to read the letter. Padma stopped talking about Parvati, something that Cho was very grateful for. Talking about Parvati always brought back memories of Harry. And memories of Harry brought back memories of Cedric. Both of those were things Cho preferred not to think about anymore. She had dealt with her past, and put it behind her.

"This is of the record, then, but do you remember Ginny Weasley? She was one year under me and two under you in Hogwarts."

Of course Cho remembered Ginny. A small, red-haired girl, who had had a crush on Harry. And some years after Hogwarts Ginny's case had been all over the papers. Ginny herself had never commented the issue in any way, but that had not stopped Rita Skeeter. The cow - Cho preferred to use that description of her colleague- had written that Ginny Weasley was mad and heard voices. She had accused Ginny's parents, her classmates, and her friends. None of them ever bothered to answer the accusations, though. Even St. Mungo's, where Ginny was (according to the cow) treated, refused to say a thing. Apparently Padma had some inside information, though. Cho took a more comfortable position and continued reading.

"Ginny is here, at St. Mungo's. You remember the scandal the Skeeter-beetle caused? Some of it is true. Ginny claims that she hears Harry's voice.

Personally, I'm bound to believe her. She hasn't got any reason to lie, quite the opposite actually. If I was she I'd lie, and say I didn't hear anything, to get home. She's very convincing. So - do you think her story is possible? That she actually hears Potter's voice?

And Cho, you're still single, aren't you? Do you ever feel there's something missing in your life?

Love, Padma"

Cho thought about Padma's letter for a while. She wasn't quite sure what she should answer. Somehow she was irritated on Padma for reminding her of…

Reminding her of actually what? It was Cho's own mind that had brought back the memories.

And Cho could understand why Padma asked her for advice. After all, she had studied both the ancient wizard religions and the contents of the main Muggle theologies. Cho had used three years of her life for those studies, and, as she admitted to herself, because she didn't have a life, gotten far. Right now she earned her living on being a freelance reporter, writing reportage for The Daily Prophet and various other papers, and studying religions on her time off. That was what had brought her to Finland, too, she had read the national epic Kalevala and found many hints of powerful magical rituals. She wanted to find proof for the theories of ancient wizards who didn't use wands, but controlled the magic with song.

With a sigh Cho took her wand from her pocket. The reply wasn't going to write itself- "Accio quill, accio ink, accio parchment," she said, and started writing the reply.

***

Khezazar looked around. Nervous, fearful faces.

"Can't any of you do anything right?" he asked the crowd.

No answer.

"I lead Weasley to a trap, which was impossible to escape. The plan was waterproof. Let's all spell it out loud. W-A-T… Why aren't you spelling?" He raised his wand and pointed randomly at the crowd. "Crucio, crucio, crucio…" He screamed. "I shall be obeyed!"

The crowd started quickly to spell out the word, accompanied by the shrieks caused by an inhuman pain. "W-A-T-E-R-P-R-double-O-F"

Khezazar laughed. The cold laugh sent chills down everyone's spines.

"Then how could Weasley escape?" he asked.

No one answered. The people moved around uncomfortably, like looking for a way out. There was none.

"Lord Voldemort is dead," Khezazar declared softly. "The Lord is dead since five years. You are to obey me!"

Silence. Khezazar lowered his voice. Though it was now silent as a whisper, everyone in the hall heard it. "The Death Eaters can survive Lord Voldemort. We are to survive him. We are to honour him on the way we do it! Now go and get them!"

***

Hermione Granger Krum was laying in her husband's arms, dreaming of a wonderful future - the future that had already begun, when a short and abrupt noise got her attention. A minimal owl was knocking on the window.

"So this couldn't wait?" she asked irritated, getting to he feet and pulling a silky kimono on her. She walked over to the window and opened it. "What is it?"

Pigwidgeon hooted happily and dropped a letter on Hermione's head.

"You haven't grown up yet, I see," she frowned at him, opening the letter. She quickly eyed it through.

"Oh God!" she exclaimed.

"Vot is it, love?" Viktor asked from the bed.

"Ron." As Hermione understood that he had gotten it all wrong, she quickly added "Nothing like that! It's actually much worse. The Death Eaters had set a trap for him, and he says they're coming for me next."

"Dey know…?"

"Apparently not," Hermione said. "It's still just Harry and their revenge." She banged her fist in the wall. "Why couldn't they just expire when Voldemort died?"

"Dey are too stupid, I suppose," Viktor shrugged. "Come back to bed, Herm-own-ninny!"

"This is serious, Viktor," Hermione exclaimed. "It looks like we're in mortal danger."

As proof for her words, the door suddenly exploded inwards. In marched five men, all wearing black robes with blood-red ornaments. All of them had their wands pulled.

"We'd like you to follow us," said the shortest of them. "Don't try to fight us, you'll only get hurt." Hermione looked first at them, then at herself and Viktor, both unarmed.

"I think we'll follow you," she said calmly. "Mind if we first put out clothes on?"

"No, if you're quick," said the tallest of the men. Krum got quickly out of bed and pulled his robes on. Hermione pulled hers over her kimono, and, as she did it, threw Ron's letter into the fire. Then she moved to the clothes closet, examining the shoes.

"Should we take warm clothes?" she asked. "I mean, if we're going to the North Pole, we'd better take the fur cloaks and warm boots."

"Could be necessary," answered one of the Death Eaters. "I'm very delighted you take this so calmly."

"I don't enjoy being stunned, nor being hit with the Cruciatus Curse," replayed Hermione lightly. "Viktor, here's your cape." She pulled hers over her.

"We're ready to leave," she said, grasping Viktor's hand. Only the way she squeezed it revealed how afraid she really was under the cold surface.

The leader of the Death Eaters smiled. "I'm very happy you're behaving so well. We very afraid that we might have to hurt you."

"Vich you of course did not vont to," Viktor added sarcastically.

The Death Eater didn't seem to notice the sarcasm. "We were told not to hurt you if only possible. I'm glad we could avoid violence." His companions muttered something, and a bright, glowing doorway appeared in the air.

"After you," the Death Eater said.

So, please do review. I'd really appreciate it. And it guarantees the sequels…


	2. Gatherings

Parvati Patil looked at the glass of water that was in front of her

Took a while, didn't it? Let's say it together: I hate school! I hate not having time to write! 

J(I like Word. It makes these smileys automatically! JJJJJ)

Disclainer: the most belongs to **J K Rowling.**L The rest belongs to **me.**J

Parvati Patil looked at the glass of water that was in front of her. She felt thirsty.

She felt hungry, too, come to that. There were apples on the table. Inadvertently she reached for them.

Slowly she took one. It was a large, green apple; its skin felt smooth and cold towards her hand. She couldn't remember how long it was since she had eaten one.

Slowly, like in a dream, she lifted the apple to her lips, enjoying the fresh scent of it. She bit the apple…

And she realised what she was doing. She threw the apple away like it was a snake. But she couldn't wipe the memory of the taste of the juicy fruit away.

"You did this," she screamed irrationally at the glass of water. It didn't answer. In one smooth motion Parvati swept the glass of the table. It smashed to a thousand pieces when it hit the floor.

Parvati stared at the mess for a moment. She made a vague effort of standing up and cleaning the mess, but her feet would not bear her. 

Parvati hid her face in her hands and cried.

***

Ginny Weasley looked at her suitcase once more.

"I think I've got everything now," she said to Padma, who was walking beside her.

"Good. Back on Monday, then," answered Parvati. "I'll accompany you home, our fireplace is just a few after yours." 

"How did you fix this so quickly?" asked Ginny. "I mean, it was only yesterday that we talked about it…"

"Connections," smiled Padma. "And you have behaved, you are to no danger to neither yourself nor others."

"Something good for not having slit my wrists open," Ginny said, somewhat bitterly. "But I'm still not sure if the advantages conquer the disadvantages."

"Don't even joke about it. I mean, I can still cancel this vacation of yours." Padma tried to keep her tone playful, but didn't entirely succeed. Ginny glanced at her, but Padma didn't even seem to notice.

They came to the fireplace, which was guarded by a very handsome knight forged on the old, heavy oven door. He winked to them. "And where are these two beautiful ladies going?"

"Home, Sir William, just home," answered Padma. She turned to Ginny, and gave her a bracelet. "Put this on. It sends signals from wherever you are here, so this way we always know where you are. And if you're in trouble, or feel bad or whatever, just push on this gem, and we'll send someone to collect you."

"So you're going to control me all the time?"

"We'll only know your whereabouts. It's for your own safety."

Ginny snapped the bracelet on. "I feel like I'm in chains!" she complained.

"We are all in chains!" Padma said, her voice full with rhetorical eloquence. "We all are chained to the truth, as servants of what we believe in. These troubles and difficulties are only here to make us…"

"I think I got it," interrupted Ginny. "No need to spell it."

"Would I do that?" asked Padma innocently. "Sir William, could we have some Floo Powder, please?"

"Why, of course," answered Sir William and swung forwards, revealing the fireplace and a small tin with Floo Powder. Ginny took a pinch of it and threw it in the fire. "See you on Monday," she said to Padma.

"You too. Take care. And…" Padma hesitated for a moment. "…Say 'hi' to Bill from me."

Ginny winked to her and stepped in the fire. "The Burrow!"

She disappeared. Padma looked after her, took a pinch of Floo Powder and threw it in the fire. She hesitated for a moment. She should go home to look after Parvati…

She really should go home now…

Padma shrugged.

"Three Broomsticks!"

***

_"Hermione, listen to me," Harry said indignantly._

_"Go away!" Hermione screamed."You're not Harry! Harry's dead! Get away from me!"_

_"Hermione, you've got to listen to me," the man who pretended to be Harry pleaded._

_Hermione ran. She had to get away from that… that… that thing, which pretended to be Harry._

_"Harry Potter is dead!" she shouted, mostly to herself. She tried not to hear the little voice inside her, who shouted that she was wrong. That this really was Harry._

_"Hermione, I need you to listen," the man shouted. "This is important! You need to know this! You need to know this to fight the Death Eaters…"_

_"You're one of them," she screamed. "You're one of them! Impostor! Impostor! Impostor!"_

Someone grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Hermione, voke up! Hermione!"

_"Ask Ginny!" the impostor shouted. "She knows! Remember Ginny…"_

The voice faded, as did the image of the false Harry. Instead of him, Hermione found herself looking at her husbands concerned face.

"Vos it a bad dream?" Viktor asked.

"A nightmare." she corrected him automatically. "Yeah, it was."

"Vot vos it about? Are you alright now?"

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing. These walls just keep giving me nightmares." She looked at them. Or, what should have been there as walls.

There wasn't anything. No bars, no nothing. They were surrounded by nothing. It was like being in a cave in a mountain, only that the mountain was made of pure nothingness. The only solid thing was the transparent floor, so they could see the sea of absolutely nothing under them.

"It'll go away if you just hold me," Hermione whispered to him. He put his arms around her, and pulled her near him. "I'm scared," she confessed in a whisper.

"I am scared too," he whispered back. "But we'll get out of here, Herm-own-ninny."

She smiled when she heard him call her that. He hadn't done it since… since they had been captured. It felt like an eternity ago, but she was pretty sure that it hadn't been really that long. Time was just the least of her concerns now.

***

Khezazar looked at the couple.

"How cute."

He turned to the young woman beside him. "How long do you think they are going to last? A day, or maybe two?"

"I don't know," the woman shrugged. She was approximately 20.

Khezazar's eyes narrowed. "Master," the woman added quickly.

Khezazar eyed her lazily. "You still haven't learned, have you? You want me to teach you another lesson?"

The woman looked slightly alarmed. "If it pleases you, Master."

"Would you enjoy it?"

The woman didn't answer immediately. First she looked at Khezazar, pondering. 

"Does my Master want to hear the truth or a 'yes'?" she then asked.

Khezazar looked at her, eyed her up and down. "You took a risk there," he said, smirking. "It has been a while since someone said 'no' to me. I'm not sure I like it."

The young woman trembled. Khezazar let his eyes sweep over her slender body.

"But I think you can make it up to me. Come here."

The woman didn't move. Her expression changed slowly from scared to enthusiastic. "Does my Master mean…"

Khezazar didn't even bother to answer. He pulled her towards him and gave her a scorcher off a kiss.

***

Ron Weasley landed on the inner yard of the Krums' house. He took his broomstick to the familiar shelter and walked to the back door.

"Password," the door asked.

"Angel", Ron answered absentmindedly.He stepped inside. "Hermione! You home?"

There was no answer. Ron wasn't sure if he should go looking for her. After all, he wouldn't want to step in their bedroom if…

Ron resolutely interrupted the sentence. Instead, to keep himself from thinking about how it would have ended, he started cursing the lack of house elves. "Damn you, Hermione, you couldn't get one, could you? Not even to show your guests in? Surely there would have been one who would have been able to accept wage. Dob…"

And again Ron interrupted himself. Dobby, the little house elf, had died some months after Harry. He had refused to eat, and just pined away.

Ron slammed his fist in the wall. The pain made it easier to think clearly, without the disturbing feelings. Resolutely Ron walked up the stairs and knocked on the door to Viktor and Hermione's private quarters.

"Damn it Hermione, if you're in there, answer!"

Still no reply. Ron took a deep breath and opened the door. No one was in the living room. He quickly traversed the room to the bedroom and opened the door, keeping his eyes shut, just in case.

No scream, no reaction whatsoever. Ron drew the conclusion that he was alone. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw a mess of cream coloured satin… an unmade bed. He firmly turned his eyes away, examining the rest of the room.

Something hit his head. Ron turned around to be met by Pigwidgeon's loving knocking on his forehead.

"When did you get here?" he demanded. "Did Hermione get my letter?"

Pigwidgeon flew to the fireplace and dragged the unfolded, wrinkled paper in view.

"Where is she?"

Pigwidgeon flew to the night table and picked on a small object.

"Her wand? You sure?"

Ron quickly counted together two and two. "She would have left a message, wouldn't she? And she would have taken her wand with her." He took his wand out. "Priori indidentum!"

A shadow of a grey hole in the air appeared. Ron saw the shadows of Hermione and Krum walk through it, strictly guarded by Death Eaters.

"Anew!"

Nothing happened. "Dark magic," Ron muttered under his breath. He grabbed Hermione's wand and ran down the stairs with Pigwidgeon on his heels. Outside he grabbed his broom and was just about to set off when he felt Pigwidgeon knocking on his shoulder.

"Come on. Get in my pocket now. We don't have time to lose!"

Pigwidgeon did fly to Ron's pocket. He didn't fly in, however. Instead he started picking on the already worn out seam.

"Get in Pig! I don't have time to play games now. I'm gonna get some help over here. In with you!"

Pigwidgeon didn't care.

"Pigwidgeon. You are going to do as I say, and you are going to do it now. Get in the pocket."

Pigwidgeon pretended he did not hear. In an attempt to catch the bird Ron swept his hand over the pocket. He did not catch the owl, but his hand got caught in a tear, and when he ripped it loose, the whole seam burst and several little purses fell to the ground.

"Now look what you did!" Ron bent down to collect the purses. Pigwidgeon made on swift dive down and grabbed the smallest blue one.

"My Floo Powder! Give it to me…" Ron trailed of in the middle of the sentence. "Pig, you're a genius."

Pigwidgeon tried to look modest when he landed on Ron's hand.

"You must be the smartest owl in the whole world!"

***

Ginny Weasley stepped out through the familiar fireplace. No one was in the kitchen. 

"Anyone home? Mum? Dad?"

There was no answer. Ginny walked over to the living room. It, too, was empty. She glanced on the clock. Both Mr and Mrs Weasley's hands said home, as did Percy's. Fred and George were "travelling", Bill was in "restaurant or pub" and Charlie at "work". Ron's hand said that he was abroad. While Ginny was watching, it started to spin, going almost the whole lap. It flickered on mortal peril and continued on to travelling. Then it started to do something Ginny had never seen it do before. It started to swing between travelling and mortal peril.

Ginny rubbed her eyes, but the hand kept on swinging. Ginny felt a cold hand of fear squeeze her heart. Knowing that Ron would be in mortal danger would be bad enough, but this… And then suddenly the hand stopped on travelling. A moment later it flickered over to home.

"Anyone here? Mum, Dad, you home?"

Ginny released the breath she hadn't even noticed she was holding.

Ron came to the living room. He looked very shaky, and his skin had a shade of green. When he saw Ginny he tried to smile, but the smile turned to a grimace.

"Where were you?" Ginny demanded. "The hand just kept on rocking between mortal peril and travelling. I've never been so worried."

Ron tried to smile again. Again it turned into a grimace. "Remind me to never use the Floo Network in Bulgaria. Somewhere between Hermione's place and England there were some small inconveniences. It felt like being ripped apart by ten mad hippogriffs. And a couple of angry dragons, too." He gave an involuntary shudder. "But we made it here quick." Ron shuddered again, but his skin started slowly to get its normal colour back.

"Whose brilliant idea was it? Haven't you learned yet, never ever use foreign Networks if you don't know they are completely safe!"

"It wasn't my idea," Ron defended himself.

"Whose, then?"

"Pigwidgeon's."

"Pigwidgeon's?"

"Pigwidgeon's." As a proof Ron put his hand in his pocket and brought out something that strongly resembled a feather ball covered with something that had been owl treats some hours ago. "Eww! Pig, what have you done to my pocket?"

Ginny tried to suppress a laugh but couldn't. She burst into giggles. Ron looked rather hurt, turned around and walked straight back into the kitchen. Ginny heard him talk soothingly to Pigwidgeon.

Still giggling, Ginny threw a glance at the clock. Fred and George's hands said now home. Then she heard her mother scream outside. Quickly she ran out.

The sight she was met by was something that she couldn't have imagined in her worst nightmares. Two about three-metre-long …things… were swaying in mid-air. Fred and George's heads seemed to be attached to them. From what Ginny remembered from her Care of Magical Creatures lessons, the things could be giant Billywigs, but surely no Billywig had ever had a Weasley's head.

Then a hatch opened on the side of one of the Billywigs, Fred's head disappeared into the body of it, and soon the whole Fred jumped out.

"Hi Mum, hi Dad, how do you like our new invention?" Only now Ginny noticed that Mr and Mrs Weasley were standing only some metres away.

"What on earth is that?" asked Mrs Weasley with slight panic in her voice. "I thought you'd be more sensible now, when you've got your own business and all…" Her voice trailed off, stifled by the hug Fred closed his mother in.

"But Mum, it's our job to invent new stuff," laughed George, who had also come out of his Billywig. "How do you like them?"

"They almost gave me heart attack. What are those things?"

"Our newest invention. They are a revolutionary way to travel. We modelled them after Billywigs. They are much more comfortable than brooms. And we've made them partly of Demiguise hair, they are invisible during travelling."

"You expect to get a licence for those things?" asked Ginny amused.

"Ginny! You're home!" For the next few minutes all Ginny could think about was gasping for breath, everyone was hugging her so hard that she hardly could breathe. Over and over again she told her family about her vacation.

"How nice that you vacation happened to be right now," Mrs Weasley said for the tenth time. It's the first time in several years that we're all together, the whole family. Charlie's finally home from New Zealand, Bill and Ron have their vacation now, so has Percy, and now that you're all home…" She wipe her eyes. "I'm so glad you're all home. Bill should be here any minute now, and Ron should arrive tomorrow or the day after."

"Ron is here already, Mum," Ginny told her. "He came some minutes ago."

"But why hasn't he come to say hello?"

Ginny giggled. "Pigwidgeon puked in his pocket. He's trying to clean the mess up."

Fred laughed. "The poor owl couldn't stand the smell, could it?"

"Actually, they came from Bulgaria through the Floo Network, and there were some problems on the way," Ginny laughed. The worry she had felt for Ron was already forgotten. "But it might as well be his robes. I've never seen him dirtier. If he visited Hermione like that…" The whole family burst out laughing, though Mrs Weasley tried to stifle hers.

"What nonsense is this? Some of us have work to do" The voice came from above. 

Fred was the first to react. "How nice to see you too, Percy." There was only the smallest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Come down here and celebrate. Mum will surely cook a wonderful meal. Ginny, you could go and help her, and we can lay the table…"

"What makes you think that I would cook! You can go and help Mum yourself! The fact that I'm a girl doesn't mean that I should…"

"Psst, Fred, I wouldn't be so eager to get Ginny to cook," interrupted a voice full of laughter. "Remember what happened the last time she tried to cook something…"

"Bill!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley. "Now the whole family is together again! Get down here immediately, Percy, and bring Ron with you."

"But… My work…" Percy tried to resist, but Mrs Weasley wouldn't listen to him. "And when you come, bring also the tables. It's a wonderful weather, we really should eat outside."

***

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore looked out through his window. The Hogwarts grounds lay beneath him, as they always had. As they had when Hogwarts was founded, as they had when he had been a student here. As they would after him.

"Dumbledore, you sent for me?" professor McGonagall's voice interrupted Dumbledore's thoughts. Slowly he turned around.

"Please sit down. We're still expecting some people." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "It looks like you're the only one who has bothered to come immediately."

"There is a lot of work to do. The houses must be cleaned for the summer, and the house elves aren't supposed to do that alone, but if we leave the students alone with them, the elves will end up doing everything…"

"I know, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled.

They sat quiet, waiting for the others to arrive. First came professor Snape, the Professor Flitwick. Lastly came a very peeved professor Sprout. "Dumbledore, please tell Peeves to stop making it harder for my students to clean. He won't listen to anyone anymore, and he has already knocked over three buckets with dirty water. My students can't clean if he is around."

"I'll see what I can do. Peeves is, in fact, one of the reasons why I've asked you to come here. These things that I am now going to tell you are extremely confidential. I beg you not to discuss them with anyone, not even your fellow professors."

Dumbledore drew a deep breath.

"After the death of Harry Potter and Voldemort [the other teachers shuddered], we have believed the Death Eaters to have expired as an organisation. Even the Wizarding Intelligence Service has concentrated on haunting down only single Dark wizards…"

"Oh no, don't tell us they aren't gone. Not today. This has been a bad day already!" exclaimed professor Sprout.

"Unfortunately that is what I have to tell you. I have heard from reliable sources that the Death Eaters haven't expired. On the contrary, they have chosen a new leader - choose isn't maybe the best word here. Their new leader calls himself Khezazar. I don't know who it is, frankly, I don't have the slightest idea of who it might be. But it looks like he has been able to reunite the Death Eaters. And they are now stronger than ever."

"Dumbledore, are you sure about this? How could they be? This Khezazar or whatever - how could he have done it. And if you say WISe doesn't know about this, how do you know?" 

"WISe didn't know about this until recently. Some of their agents managed to infiltrate what they thought was a local Dark Arts Circle. It turned out that it wasn't local. It is only a part of a great organisation, bigger than Death Eaters ever were during Voldemorts [again the other teachers shuddered] time. I cannot tell these agents' names, both because I don't know them all, but also because they fear for their lives. One is already dead. It looks like an accident, but we don't know for sure. It is better that you don't know."

"Then why did you send for us?" asked Snape. "If we can do nothing about this. I mean, it is extremely bad news, but this information, about the Circle, doesn't touch any of us."

"I wish I could agree," sighed Dumbledore. "But my sources tell me that the Death Eaters have activity here, inside Hogwarts walls, too. I must ask you to keep an eye on both students and your fellow teachers…" Dumbledore raised his hand. "Please let me finish, Minerva. Yes, it is true. At least one of our teachers might belong to the Death Eaters. And I know for sure that several students do, I just don't know whom. Therefore I cannot give you names. But I ask you to keep your eyes open. Do not trust anyone."

It took a while for the words to sink in. Then Snape smiled wryly. "How do you then know you can trust us?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled suddenly. "I didn't know for sure. I think I can, though. But if you find me dead in my bed tomorrow, you will know who to question." He grew serious again. "That is the reason I asked you to come here together. Now you all know. You know whom to trust. And if something happens to me, to one of you, to students, you know whom to suspect."

Author note: Please review. I like reviews. But I can't promise the next part will be out faster if you review. It's not finished, and it will take time to finish it, and I probably won't be able to write during summertime. Not on computer, anyway.LI'll do my best. I already know what the next part is going to be called… It's a good start, isn't it?


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